An American professor once went to study with a Zen master in Japan.
At their first meeting, the Zen master received the American with a silent
bow and prepared the tea ceremony according to custom. At the appropriate
moment, he poured tea into the cup set before the guest. He poured, and
then poured some more, until the professor became alarmed: “Stop!” he hollered,
breaking the silence. “It’s too full. Full to overflowing!”

The Zen master looked at his visitor. “So too is your mind. Full of
ideas, opinions, prejudices, theories. You must first empty yourself. Only
then will you be receptive to what is true and real.”

Sociologist Peter Berger, a famous student and teacher of what is true
and real about American religious institutions, recently noted that while
many of North America’s more liberal and moderate religious denominations
have been losing members, morale, and moral influence, the cry that “the
liberal church is dead” may be premature or even wrongheaded.

“Religious institutions built on modern skepticisms will be fragile,”
he writes, “but they can show remarkable vitality.”

Fragile we are. Like the delicate, tiny porcelain cups used in the tea
ceremony, our mostly small congregations try to contain all our many strong
ideas, opinions, prejudices, and theories. Yet we do show amazing spiritual
vitality.

Witness the fact that in the last decade, while much larger denominations
have been declining, Unitarian Universalist ranks have increased by some
50,000 adult members and youth--roughly a 30% growth. I have visited
over 550 of our 1,030 congregations. On over 100 of the visits, I’ve been
there to help congregations dedicate new or expanded facilities. Often
more people have been at worship services than the whole reported membership
of the church.

Our commitment seems to have increased as well. Even when adjusted for
inflation, contributions to local congregations have nearly doubled. Per
capita giving to the UUA and districts, and to other agencies of shared
mission, has nearly doubled, too.

Why has all this taken place? Not because we claim to have all the answers.
No--perhaps precisely because we don’t make that claim.

Berger points out that the Protestant foundations of liberal religion
both lead us to value the individual person and to celebrate an authentic
inner faith that is more powerful than the triumphalism of seemingly stronger,
more dogmatic institutions. He goes on to explain that institutionally
weaker denominations may in fact offer “a truer witness to the self-emptying
of God.”

There he’s alluding to a very ancient, sound theological tradition.
It says that even God decided to practice “self-emptying”--in order to
make room for Creation, for us, for partners in the ongoing creative process.
In Judaism, it’s used to explain the presence of the Shekinah, the divine
glory, in all that exists around us. The Jewish tradition even speaks of
each soul as one of the scattered sparks of the divine. The work of redemption,
then, is to reunite them.

In Christianity, the self-emptying is called kenosis and also accounts
for how the Divine, the Good, can be crucified--and emptied of meaning--if
we try (as so often we do) to nail down the Holy with dogmatic prescriptions.

The late James Luther Adams, UU social ethicist and theologian, compared
the liberal church in its seeming weakness to the biblical David, who went
out to face the giant Goliath without the armor and weapons that were offered
him. No shield, no sword, no helmet, no spear. Similarly, we liberal religionists
forego any summa theologica, historic creed, metaphysical teaching, or
other prescriptive formulations.

Just as David took with him only five smooth, well-worn stones from
the brook Kedron, so we take with us only some very simple principles that
we hold in common, grounded in universal experience:

That revelation is not sealed. As the hymn goes on to say, “answering
now to our endeavor / truth and right are still revealed.”

That authentic religious living is voluntarily chosen and shaped through
persuasion, not coercion.

That we nevertheless have an obligation, on the basis of all we have
been given in life, to form more authentic community with and for others.

That we must not rely upon the immaculate conception of virtue but rather
practice the social incarnation of the good we seek.

That we must think critically but hope always--remembering that none
of us knows enough to be justified in an ultimate despair.

What is real and true about human living is always grounded in paradox.
True strength is grounded in vulnerability. We need self-discipline to
live in freedom. We must empty ourselves in order to be filled. We must
feed others in order that we may be nourished. We must doubt in order to
grow in faith. And we must have faith to draw nearer to the real and true.

Next time you worship, or sit in prayer or meditation, or talk to others
about religious living, try to bear this in mind. Our opinions can get
in the way. Emptying ourselves of ego is the precondition to enlarging
the soul.